


A Christmas Romance

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, FairySafe, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Holidays, One Big Happy Weasley Family (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: Hermione comes across Fred on a sofa at The Burrow; covered in children and loving it.In that moment, all Hermione could think about was how much she would also like to climb onto Fred Weasley’s lap. To return his charges to their parents so she had his full attention. She would push her hands up inside his Christmas jumper to stroke his muscled chest while covering him in kisses. In fact, she thought, that jumper needed to come off, along with the jeans that were clinging to his thighs. All Hermione could think about was how badly she wanted to press herself against Fred’s body and make love with him until they had made a baby of their own.Naturally, she asks him out.Naturally, it doesn't go to plan.Can they sort themselves out in time for a snuggly Christmas?**This is part of theFremione Fanatics Yule fest 2020 - click to see more fluffy holiday Fremione ficsand if you enjoy this or any other of our fluffy Fremione Christmas fics then please leave mince pies and happy comments for the authors who have worked hard to make this happen 🎄🎄
Relationships: George Weasley/Oliver Wood, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 157
Kudos: 198
Collections: Fremione Fanatics 2020 Yule fest





	1. Hermione's Hormones

Hermione had only been abroad for six weeks, but it felt like far longer. The mini sabbatical which she had taken to visit her parents, thanks to Kingsley finding her a few diplomatic errands to undertake on the other side of the world, had somehow felt as if it were the last step in her journey of post-war healing. She stepped into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic feeling impossibly happy; ready for a family Christmas and a new beginning. Last year she had spent the whole of Christmas with her parents and it hadn’t felt like Christmas at all. The heat and the sunshine just didn’t seem appropriate for the season. Although, she supposed, it was all a matter of perspective. Perhaps, she thought, as she looked around her at the snow-encrusted Ministry workers who had transported in from the London streets that she hadn’t seen since leaving, Australian witches would find a cold Christmas odd.

“Did you leave your head there?” Harry’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she hugged both him and Ron hello. They had come down from the auror’s office just to greet her, and she was happy to see them.

“Mum says go over as soon as you like,” Ron said, when they had exchanged news of her trip and chat about friends. Hermione had moved out of her flat before going to Australia; there had been no point in paying rent on an empty flat when she could pack and take all of her possessions in her beaded bag and then, thanks to Molly’s insistence, stay at The Burrow until she found somewhere new. “You’re having Bill and Charlie’s old room. They’re all over tonight but they’re apparently all sleeping at home and flooing in on Christmas morning, so they won’t need it.”

“Thank you,” she replied, giving him another squeeze and feeling grateful, as she always did, that they had managed to retain a close friendship despite being entirely unsuited romantically

“We’re all coming over tonight,” said Harry. “Family meal. Celebrating your return. Three-line whip.”

“Chicken and mushroom pie,” added Ron. “With roast potatoes and broccoli.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Hermione replied, smiling at the sheer familiarity of the fact that Ron always took the time to find out exactly what his next meal would consist of. She glanced up at the large clock, hoping that she would have enough time after her debrief to slip into the Weasleys’ enormous bath before the hordes arrived. Despite the fact that portkeys took a miniscule amount of time to transport one halfway around the world, she still felt as grubby as if she had spent three hours on the tube.

Thanks to her boss’ desire to join several departmental heads for Friday night drinks, Hermione got her wish. She gave her report in record time and then headed to the fireplaces on the right-hand side of the atrium where she could flush herself out of the Ministry and then apparate to The Burrow. Not for the first time, she wondered why the greatest minds of the wizarding world couldn’t come up with a seemlier method of transport for its employees than a row of old loos. But within seconds of appearing outside the wards of The Burrow, Molly Weasley’s excited wave and the fairy lights strung through the trees had removed these thoughts from her mind and instead Hermione smiled as she walked towards the cosy house which, these days, felt more like home than any other.

Twenty minutes later, she lay soaking in a hot bath, thanking the stars for Molly Weasley, her motherly intuition and her bottomless teapot. A large chipped mug was balanced on the side, and the elder witch had added a glug of firewhisky and a spoonful of honey to Hermione’s tea, insisting that the combination would stave off any residual tiredness from travelling by portkey. 

Hermione luxuriated in the bubble bath, enjoying the scent of what appeared to be the latest product in Fred and George’s Wonder Witch range. This one was named Christmas Bubble Buzz, and it was a combination of orange, cinnamon and just a touch of clove. It certainly had a positive effect on Hermione, putting her in an even more festive mood. This break, and a few days with the Weasleys, was just what she needed, Hermione thought, and she soaked for so long that her fingertips grew wrinkly. After an hour of this therapy, she heard other family members begin to arrive through the floo and conceded that it was time to contemplate getting out. Hermione shampooed and conditioned her long curly hair and then stepped out of the bath, wrapping herself in a large purple towel. 

She padded to Bill and Charlie’s old room, dried herself and then dressed in one of her favourite holiday outfits; a woollen dress that George Weasley had transfigured for her from an old muggle Christmas jumper of Fred's a couple of years ago for a laugh. She had been trying to get out of a trip to the pub with Harry and the Weasleys on the basis that her work clothes weren’t festive enough. The laugh had ended up being on George though; Hermione loved the way the soft woollen fabric moulded to her curves, and a couple of small adjustments had led to the creation of a beloved red dress featuring a smiling reindeer. She added a pair of woollen tights, poked her wand through her messy bun and then, holding the banister, began to descend the wooden stairs.

Hermione tipped her head to one side as she walked, trying to identify the voices and work out who had arrived while she had been bathing. It sounded like Fleur, Charlie and Lauren were in the kitchen with Molly, and Hermione could hear Bill and Arthur discussing cutlery as they laid the table for dinner. And another voice; she thought Fred’s, but there was a chance it could be George’s, coming from the living room, where she could also hear Elliot’s excited tones.

As the stairs ended in the living room, it wasn’t long before Hermione’s initial guess as to the identity of the voice’s owner was confirmed, and she was delighted to receive a warm welcome from Fred’s companion. 

“Miney!” 

Elliot shouted in excitement to see the new arrival, and scrambled down from Fred’s lap to give his honorary auntie a hug. Hermione gave the toddler a squeeze and a kiss, smiling to see how he looked more like Charlie every day, but then he wriggled out of her arms and ran back to Fred’s lap, grabbing the helping hand that the redheaded wizard offered him. Elliot Bennett-Weasley loved animals, sausages and his cousin Victoire, though not necessarily in that order, and the latter was asleep on Fred’s chest, gently cradled by the twin’s long arm.

“Vicky’s sleep!” Elliot shouted to Hermione, making Fred laugh.

“Under one of Bill’s extra strength silencing charms,” the tall, redheaded wizard added, by means of explaining how the tiny witch could possibly be relaxing so peacefully amidst Elliot’s shouting. 

“Okay, mate,” Fred reached to his other side in response to his nephew’s insistent patting and handed Elliot a shiny, foil-wrapped chocolate from a nearby box. “Here’s another chocolate frog to hang on the tree. We promised Nanna that we’d get them all on before dinner, didn’t we? Hello love!” Fred looked up at Hermione for the first time and grinned. “Good journey back?”

But Hermione couldn’t answer straight away. She was transfixed by the sight in front of her. Having known Fred Weasley for more than half her life, she had long been aware that he was kind, loyal, generous and family-centred. Everyone knew him to be funny and, like many of the witches who spent their schooldays in Gryffindor Tower, she might have had a tiny, short-lived crush on him back in her fourth year. But the feelings that were sweeping through her now were unprecedented. It was as if she had never before seen Fred Weasley as a man. And yet now, here he was. A hot, sexy, red blooded wizard sat cosily on his mother’s sofa in a Christmas jumper, covered in children and loving it.

She nodded; managing to squeak out some sort of greeting to her old friend, although she had no idea what she said. But it didn’t really matter; ninety per cent of Fred’s attention was divided between watching a sleepy Victoire curled up on his chest and attending to an overexcited Elliot scrambling back up again for another chocolate. “Ooof!” Fred laughed, tipping his head back as Elliot’s little knee dug into his thigh. And then, “oh sorry, love…” He pressed a gentle, reassuring kiss to Victoire’s temple as the small witch startled at the movement.

Hermione stared at the scene; feeling as if certain parts of her body were in overdrive. She could, she would tell Ginny later, literally feel her hormones surging. They raged through her veins, making her heart leap and her head spin with feelings and emotions that she couldn’t name. And then, Hermione felt sensations descending lower; turning her on, but more than that. The witch was shocked to realise what she was thinking and sensing; it was as if every egg in her ovaries was looking at Fred and shouting, “Him! Yes, him!” 

In that moment, all Hermione could think about was how much she would also like to climb onto Fred Weasley’s lap. To return his charges to their parents so she had his full attention. She would push her hands up inside his Christmas jumper to stroke his muscled chest while covering him in kisses. In fact, she thought, that jumper needed to come off, along with the jeans that were clinging to his thighs. All Hermione could think about was how badly she wanted to press herself against Fred’s body and make love with him until they had made a baby of their own. 

Thoroughly confused, she turned and ran back upstairs.


	2. Catching Feelings

Hermione Granger gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself one more time, sternly but quietly. She had been chatting to herself for a few minutes now, and still didn’t understand what was happening for her. At least that was what she was telling herself. And she almost believed it. “You need to go back down really soon, else they’ll wonder what you’re doing. Just be normal around him, and you can think it all through later. Have an early night if you need to; you can always say you’re jet lagged.”

“Hermione?”

She heard the door handle rattle, and cursed herself for not speaking more quietly, or for realising that Ginny would come up when she found out that her friend was home. She must have checked Hermione’s bedroom before coming in search of her. 

Hermione pointed her wand at the door and Ginny almost fell through it. But her quidditch-honed reflexes kicked in and she managed to stay upright and land in Hermione’s arms.

“Soooooooooo good to see you!” Ginny peppered her friend’s face with kisses, making Hermione laugh. “I need all your news! Did you have a lovely time? How are your mum and dad? Did you shag any nice Australian blokes?” She looked for Hermione’s bag. “Did you bring presents?”

Hermione laughed, relieved that Ginny’s questions weren’t related to what she had said; perhaps her friend hadn’t heard her quiet comments to the mirror. She took a moment to recall what Ginny had asked. “Yes, I did, thank you. They’re good, and they send their love. No, still no shagging since Zach, and yes, but they’re for Christmas, so you can wait.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows when she heard Zach's name. She had almost forgotten about the tall, American auror-in-training who had been seconded to the Ministry for a few weeks after the war. Ginny knew all about how, when Zach had kissed Hermione in the middle of Cardiff after taking her to a new restaurant, the feelings had been entirely different from those she had experienced with Ron. According to Hermione, Zach made the best coffee she had ever tasted. And according to drunk Hermione (for sober Hermione might not have shared this level of detail with Ron's sister), it was when she and Zach had gone to bed together a couple of weeks later that she knew for certain that what she had with Ron was nothing more than deep friendship. She had felt very differently with Zach. But Hermione had only ever thought it to be a temporary thing, just like her short-lived relationship with Viktor. Zach’s ambition lay on the other side of the Atlantic, and Hermione needed her home country and the Weasleys too much. So they had amicably ended their relationship a week before he went home. The last they had heard, Zach was with a witch called Jessica, who he had met when she held the magical law book upon which he placed his hand while taking his auror's oath.

Ginny searched Hermione's face as she pondered her friends' words and, after assuring herself that her friend wasn't feeling any regret, bounced up and down a little, grinning like an idiot.

“It’s lovely to see you!” She sang the words that time, hugging Hermione again. “I missed you so much. I’ve been driving Harry mad by counting the days til you got home…”

“That’s very sweet.” Hermione was touched by Ginny’s words and felt a wave of warmth towards the younger witch. Which then dissipated very slightly when Ginny’s eyes took on an expression more normally seen on one or both of the twins’ faces.

“So … who are you acting normally around?” Ginny watched Hermione’s eyebrows carefully as they creased. “No, don’t fret,” she continued, taking Hermione by the hand and casting a muffliato spell around them before towing Hermione to her bedroom. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“We need to go down,” Hermione protested. “Dinner will be ready soon.” She realised that there was safety in numbers; Ginny couldn’t interrogate her quite so easily with a crowd of Weasleys around.

“No, it won’t,” said Ginny. “George is still closing up at the shop, and Ron and Harry aren’t back yet. There was some sort of kerfuffle in the Alley with a couple of drunken muggles who wandered in behind someone who wasn’t paying attention, so they’re delayed by half an hour and Mum’s holding dinner til they get here.”

“Oh.” That was disappointing. Not because Hermione was hungry – although, come to think of it, she realised she was – but because Ginny was certain to get the truth out of her now she had the luxury of time. Hermione sighed, knowing that there was no point in resisting. There was a reason that Ginny had never studied legilimency; her ability to get information out of people meant she had no need for the skill.

“I think there’s a possibility that I might have accidentally caught feelings for one of your brothers,” Hermione confessed slowly, looking down at her lap. 

“Oh,” said Ginny, only half-registering what she said at first. And then the penny dropped. “OH!” Her eyes grew brighter and more excited.

“It’s worse than that.” Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head, unable to look at her friend while she shared what was happening for her. “I had this really strange urge just now to jump him and beg him to get me pregnant.” She opened her eyes again and chuckled a bit, trying to laugh it off. “What’s that all about?! It’s probably the jet lag. All those Christmas romcoms I watched with my mum; they have an entire channel of them, you know? I was just trying to talk some sense into myself…”

“Oh, fuck me!” Ginny was clearly delighted and the volume of the redhead’s voice made Hermione feel immensely grateful for the muffling spell. “This is bloody brilliant. Mum’ll be so happy.” The younger witch’s brain was in overdrive. “Are you going to tell Fred?” she asked.

Hermione’s attention had turned to Arnold, who had just climbed out of his nest and started to preen his fur, but her head snapped back at Ginny’s words; her eyes wide.

“How did you know it was Fred?”

Gilly laughed, but not unkindly. Her head tipped to one side and her grin widened as she spoke.

“Bill and Charlie are married and partnered with a kid each. Percy and Penny … well, I bet you anything you like she won’t be touching the eggnog and they’ll be making an announcement soon. George only has eyes for Oliver and, by the way, we really do need to do something about that, and you and Ron … just no. Not that again. Even if you were gay, which you’re not, you wouldn’t try to nick me from Harry, so that only leaves Fred,” she said, looking smug. “And, in any case, you and Fred…” Ginny shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Well, it’s always been there, hasn’t it?”

Hermione’s head jerked back slightly, in surprise.

“Has it?”

“Of course!” Ginny’s good mood was indefatigable. “You and he have always had a spark. When you two debate, it’s like watching an old married couple. George and I…” 

Ginny stopped herself from completing that sentence. She was going to tell Hermione that she and George had made a bet with Ron and Harry last Christmas that Fred and Hermione would be together before a year had passed, but then thought better of it. Which was half because she didn’t want to muck things up between Hermione and Fred and half because she really didn’t want to lose that bet on a technicality because she had interfered and helped the pair to get together. Ron and Harry would have no hesitation in calling her out on that.

“You and George?” Hermione prompted.

“Well,” Ginny hedged, taking another sip of her drink to buy herself a few extra seconds of thinking time. “I remember we had a chat once and both said we thought you two would be good together; that’s all … no biggie.” She reached into her handbag for a couple of last-minute presents that she had bought that day, summoning wrapping paper in an attempt to distract Hermione from following that line of questioning. To Ginny’s relief, it seemed to have worked. “So your plan is to act normally?” she asked.

“Inasmuch as I have a plan,” Hermione replied, and then she sighed. “I don’t have a plan,” she said. “I refuse to play games. I’m not going to do all that Lavender stuff and flick my hair around and dangle myself in front of him. I couldn’t pull it off, anyway. No, either I’ll leave it or I’ll ask him on a date.”

“Well, go you, Hermione!” Ginny’s grin was wide and proud. “I like that approach! Do you know what I think?”

But Hermione never got to hear what Ginny thought. Arthur’s voice came up the stairs, calling the pair down for dinner. After a quick hug, during which Ginny reassured Hermione that it was all going to be brilliant, and Hermione laughed, but more at the joy of being back amongst the Weasleys than because she thought Ginny was right, the two arrived at the table. 

“Oh, great!” said Ginny, seeing one empty space between Charlie and Penny and another between Fred and Harry. “Charlie,” she announced, heading towards her elder brother and deliberately leaving the seat next to Fred open for Hermione to take. “I need to tell you about quidditch practice today!” She blew a kiss to her boyfriend, who was slightly surprised that she didn’t want to sit next to him. “I thought you’d like to chat to Hermione, seeing as you’ve not seen her for so long,” Ginny said, thinking quickly.

“Sit, sit!” called Molly, indicating that Hermione should take the last seat. “Jump in before all the pie has gone. Fred! Help Hermione! Goodness knows what they’ve been feeding you in Australia, but at least you’re here now. Eat!”

Forgetting her worries about what to do about Fred, Hermione smiled at the scene. The table was full of some of her very favourite people, the wizarding world was safe, it was nearly Christmas and she was happy. Fred offered her the roast potatoes and she gave him a smile as she helped herself. Her heart skipped a beat, and Hermione’s mind quickly reassured her body. Tonight, she would enjoy the new sensation of feeling aware of him beside her. There would be plenty of time to think about how she was going to ask him out tomorrow.


	3. Inviting Trouble

In fact, there wasn’t quite as much thinking space as Hermione had imagined, but then Hermione hadn’t imagined the pre-Christmas whirlwind that was Molly Weasley relishing the knowledge that she would have her entire family at The Burrow on Christmas Day. Molly had made it clear to Hermione at breakfast time that she had no expectation that the younger witch would help. That wasn’t Hermione’s job, Molly said, wanting to ensure that she didn’t feel obligated and knew that she was free to come and go as she pleased. But, Hermione explained, her weeks in the sun had rendered her more than ready for some time spent baking and decorating for an English Christmas. She had bought all of her presents, and she really didn’t want to face the Diagon Alley crowds at this time of the year.

And so Hermione set to work making gingerbread, wrapping a few gifts, helping sort and store food for the holidays and, most importantly, enjoying the warmth of Molly’s company. They drank hot chocolate, sneaked mince pies – for quality control purposes, of course – and sang and swayed to the sound of Christmas songs on the kitchen radio that Fred and George had modified to work off magic. The adoption of a muggle into the Weasley family – which was still the best thing that had happened to Arthur pretty much ever – had brought other new technologies into their lives, and Molly baked extra mince pies in readiness for those who were attending Lauren and Charlie’s now annual Christmas Eve film showing at The Burrow the next evening. The entire family would be there, and some were staying the night so they didn’t have to floo in on Christmas morning.

“Just a few of us tonight, though,” Molly had said. “Harry and Ginny are attending her work Christmas party, so it’s just Ron and the twins and whoever they bring. And I asked Luna, so you’ll not be alone if they go and play moonlight quidditch.”

There turned out to be quite a few ‘whoevers’, and Hermione looked up from her book just after six o’clock to see several wizards happily and noisily tumbling out of the floo. Ron had brought Seamus, Dean and an auror colleague who she didn’t really know, and Fred arrived with Lee and Oliver in tow. Molly was delighted, and produced enough chicken and chips for seventeen people. George arrived just in time, and Hermione noticed that the tips of his ears turned pink when it was Oliver who moved over to make way for him at the table. 

Hermione stole a glance across the table at Fred, and he winked at her, casting his eyes at his twin and their quidditch star friend. He raised his eyebrows just a fraction, and she smiled, having taken his meaning. The pair would be so sweet together, although they didn’t seem to have sorted themselves out just yet.

A soft voice spoke from Hermione’s left.

“You should just ask him, you know. He has no idea.”

Hermione hadn’t even noticed Luna arrive, she had been so busy watching Fred. She nodded, blushing a little himself.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked. There was little need to lower her voice. The conversation around the table was so noisy that no-one would have overheard. And Molly was down the other end. 

“Only to those who know what they’re looking for. He’s a good man. Lovely with the children.”

“Mmmmm, I know.”

Hermione had been thinking about it on and off all day, and had decided that there was no point prolonging things. When the opportunity arose to get Fred alone, she would ask him on a date and then she would know where she stood. If he wasn’t interested in her, it would be better to find out now than to moon over him for another few weeks (while Ginny likely fuelled the situation and enlisted George in a bit of meddling, she suspected) and to feel more disappointed if things didn’t work out.

But it was clear that getting Fred alone in a crowd of noisy wizards wasn’t going to be easy. Within a few minutes of finishing dinner and retiring to the living room in lieu of quidditch in the pouring rain (which Hermione didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved about), a casual game of wizard’s trivia was being conducted amidst loud, laughing conversations about what everyone was up to. 

The game was fuelled by a couple of bottles of firewhisky, and Hermione and Luna had both been snapped up by the teams. Luna was quickly commandeered by Lee, who then tried to insist that the blonde woman sit on his lap. Hermione had been surprised, but then she remembered how funny Lee had found Luna’s quidditch commentary, so perhaps, she thought, she should have seen it coming. When Hermione then found herself being called onto Fred’s team by the redheaded wizard himself, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when he moved Oliver next to his twin and motioned for her to sit on the sofa next to him. Most likely, she knew, he was doing his brother a favour and it had nothing to do with wanting to be near her physically.

Fred practically confirmed that with his next words.

“You don’t have to answer any quidditch questions, love,” he told her cheerfully. “But we’re absolutely going to need you for the history ones!”

She enjoyed the game though, and the proximity to Fred. It gave her a chance to watch the funny wizard, who was kind and chatty and attentive to her all night; perhaps realising that this was a big crowd for the introverted witch. George was liberally dishing out firewhisky, and some of their friends got quite silly. Not Fred though, Hermione was pleased to note. He seemed to be drinking less, although he was clearly very entertained by the others’ antics. Their team won more rounds than any other, although no-one was properly counting, and it was a far more pleasant evening than Hermione had imagined. By nine o-clock, however, she had given up on her idea to try to talk to Fred. There just wasn’t going to be an opportunity in the crowd of increasingly silly friends.

But then, all of a sudden, there was. 

Fred was volunteered by George to pop back to their flat for another bottle of firewhisky, Molly urged him to take some mince pies to share with the shop workers who were taking the Christmas Eve shift the next day while he was going and Hermione saw her chance. 

“I’ll show you where they are, Fred.” She stood up with him, and Molly nodded her thanks; grateful not to have to get up from her knitting.

“Alright then,” Fred grinned, and followed her into the kitchen. Hermione took the tin that Molly had marked with the shop’s initials, and handed it to him, taking a deep breath as she did.

“Fred, I wanted to ask you something?”

“What’s that, love?” The wizard had been about to turn and head to the floo, urged on by the calls to hurry which were coming from the living room. They had all but run out of firewhisky now.

“I wondered if you might like to go out with me sometime?” Hermione asked. “On a date, that is?”

Fred looked at her and, for a moment, his face was frozen in surprise. 

Hermione held her breath, hoping that he would at least give her a chance. 

But then he laughed. 

It wasn’t an unkind laugh, and in fact it was accompanied by a soft touch of his hand to her face, but it was a laugh all the same. Hermione’s heart dropped.

“Oh, bless you,” he said, casting his eyes to the living room door. “Good one, Hermione. That’s very sweet of you but I couldn’t possibly...” Fred chuckled again, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll get this firewhisky and then we’ll take them out for good next round, right?”

Hermione nodded, but it was more a reflex action. She managed not to let the tears fall until he and his mince pies had disappeared with a wave and a puff of green smoke. She managed to hold her emotions back all the way through the living room, where she whispered to Molly and Luna that she was actually feeling quite tired after her trip and was going to head to bed. But once she got into Charlie’s old bed and had locked and warded the bedroom door behind her, big fat tears began to drip onto her cheeks. Clearly, she wasn’t going to be getting the Christmas romance with Fred she had been hoping for, and that thought made her feel really sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so to borrow the words of the fabulous Treesap, I just want to remind you that this is not the end 😊 🎄


	4. Wicked Wheezes

When Hermione wasn’t quite her normal, happy self at the breakfast table the next morning, it took Molly one and a half minutes to realise that there was a problem. It took the elder witch fifteen minutes, two cups of tea and a full English breakfast to fully accept that Hermione wasn’t going to admit it or give Molly the information she wanted. And then another half an hour to check the clock, floo out to find her youngest son and demand to know how he had upset her adopted daughter. Before she left The Burrow, Molly gave Hermione a big hug and suggested that the young witch enjoy a nice bath and then have a peaceful day in an armchair.

“Why do you automatically think it was me?!” Ron asked, a bit indignantly. 

He hadn’t anticipated having his mum turn up in his office on Christmas Eve, although no-one minded. There was very little work happening in the Ministry that day, and Kingsley had been wandering around dressed as muggle Santa and shouting, “ho, ho, ho” all morning. Someone had charmed all of the memos to dance to the Christmas songs that were being played loudly in the atrium and, all in all, the atmosphere was very festive.

Molly's face wasn't festive at all. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who was hovering outside the room, unsure whether he was interrupting something. “It’s Fred you should ask!” Ron continued. “She sat next to him all night, and she was fine until she went to the kitchen with him for the mince pies, and then that’s when she disappeared. If anyone has upset Hermione, it’ll be Fred!”

Ten minutes later, Molly was in the back room of Weasley’s Wicked Wheezes asking the same question of Fred. Her middle son declined to answer Molly’s questions directly, but it was clear to Molly that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I’ll talk to George,” he said, clearly hedging a bit.

“Why George?” Molly asked. “George was with Oliver, and don’t think I wasn’t watching the two of them being all sweet together. We need to sort them out once we’ve sorted you and Hermione!”

“There is no ‘me and Hermione’,” Fred sighed. “Not that I wouldn’t like there to be, but there isn’t.”

“So what’s going on then?” Molly’s voice was softer now, and she sat down on the sofa in the twins’ office. This sounded like a job for a mum, though Molly knew that there was a fine line between supporting and interfering. She tried to tread that line as best she could, but none of her kids had arrived with a rulebook at the end of their umbilical cord and she was still playing it by ear even after all of these years.

Fred looked up to see his twin entering the room, and sighed again. The two exchanged a glance, and Fred gave in, knowing he wouldn’t get any peace – or, more importantly, be allowed to return to tend his busy shop – until his mum got some sort of answer. And besides, he was worried about having upset Hermione; that hadn’t been his intention at all. He had been trying to save her from embarrassment. But now Molly’s questions had him wondering if something more was going on. If he had been clueless, he needed to find out why. Maybe if he confessed to Molly, she could reassure the little witch and he could take her some apology chocolates when they went round for film night later.

“We’ve been working on a new product which makes people lose their inhibitions,” he began. “Just provides a bit of encouragement to do things they might not normally do. George had some in his pocket last night and was slipping it into the firewhisky,” Fred admitted. “Hermione did something a bit out of character before I nipped to the flat but then, by the time I got back, she had gone to bed.” He shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “I didn’t know whether she would rather just forget it ... you should tell her I certainly won’t tell anyone.” 

Molly looked shocked. “You’re testing products on your friends?”

Fred laughed a bit at that. “Now you sound like Hermione herself!” He looked at George for support, but instead he saw a look that didn’t often cross his twin’s face. “What?” he asked George. But his stomach had dropped and Fred had a horrible feeling that he knew what was coming. You didn’t spend your life beside another person without being able to read their mind at least a little bit.

George pulled a nearly full vial of orange potion from his robes pocket. “I only gave a bit to Seamus and Ron, and I soon realised that I couldn’t differentiate the effects of the potion from the effects of the firewhisky,” he said. “So I stopped. And besides,” he added, “do you really think I’d be stupid enough to give an untested potion to Hermione?! She’d skin me alive!”

Fred’s face was frozen again while he took that in.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, Gods…”

“What?” George and Molly spoke together and the look of horror on Fred’s face grew.

“Hermione asked me out last night,” he whispered. “In the kitchen. On a date. But I laughed it off because I thought it was the potion talking. I assumed she’d wake up this morning feeling relieved that she didn’t have to tell me she wasn’t interested after all. Oh Gods…”

“Fred Weasley!”

His head fell into his hands. “I know.” 

Molly realised that there was no need to berate her son. The look on his face clearly showed that he was already doing enough of that himself.

“It’s Christmas Eve, Fred,” Molly said, but more softly then Fred felt he deserved. “And you’ve hurt Hermione’s feelings.”

“I know,” Fred said again. “Don’t say it. I need to wizard up and clean up my own mess.”

“Indeed,” his mum patted his leg. “And we don’t have enough time for you to turn this into a long, angst-filled drama. There’s only a few hours until film night!”

“Well then,” George said, as they watched Molly bustle back towards the floo. “You’d better go.”

Fred nodded. “Thanks,” he said, grateful that his brother seemed to understand that he needed to go even though the shop was heaving. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

George reached for his twin. “No,” he said. “You’ll be back only if and when Hermione’s okay. We’ll manage.” He looked out into the shop, which was full of people waiting to buy last-minute gifts. It was as noisy as ever, with Christmas music coming from every corner. Tiny Santas were whizzing about above the aisles on miniature broomsticks and charmed tinsel and mistletoe was moving itself around the shop, basically doing its own sales pitch. “Everyone’s cheerful, at least,” George said. “The buffet lunch is set out for the staff and I’ll get Verity to offer mince pie bites to customers if the queues get too long.”

“Alright.” Fred stood, clapping his twin on the back in thanks for the support and then readied himself to go. He would quickly nip to Honeydukes for a peace offering and then floo home and see what could be done. His stomach dropped, and he realised in that moment how very much he cared for Hermione. Why on earth hadn’t he engaged his brain before he opened his mouth? Would she be able to forgive him for rejecting her? Fred winced and felt his cheeks redden as he remembered his lighthearted response and joking laugh.

“It’d better be,” George looked serious for a moment, and then he grinned; a smile that comforted his distressed twin a bit. “You need to make enough babies for both of us, remember…”


	5. Hermione's Idiot

Hermione had been giving herself a talking to in the bath, where she had retreated after Molly had left. After, of course, adding a hefty muffliato spell to ensure that no-one other than Crookshanks, who was perched on the edge, could hear her this time.

“It’s not like he’s the first man I’ve loved and lost,” she told the half-kneazle, as she squeezed out her shampoo. “I coped after Ron and I realised that it didn’t feel right.” She thought back to the difficult but ultimately freeing conversation the pair had shared after their first night in bed together. It had been lovely to share their first time with each other and have it be a funny, friendly experience rather than something shared with someone they barely knew and would never see again, but it hadn’t felt like Hermione thought it was supposed to feel and that alone had convinced them both that they were better off as friends. 

“And Zach, the great coffee maker. I got over him,” she reminded Crookshanks, who listened carefully and then began to wash his paw in sympathy. “Just as I’ll get over Fred.” She winced. “Even if I do have to look at his face throughout Christmas.” 

Hermione shook her head, unsure how she could feel so much in such a short time. And then she sighed. If she was honest with herself, this wasn’t a new thing. It had long been there, bubbling under the surface. She had liked Fred for years, even if she hadn't allowed herself to fully realise it. It was just a shame that he didn’t feel the same way. Especially because her closeness to the Weasleys meant she couldn’t exactly avoid him while she licked her wounds and mended her pride.

Half an hour later, she heard Molly arrive home and, determined to get over herself and make sure her Christmas was a happy one, Hermione quickly put her favourite reindeer dress on, went downstairs and re-emerged into the living room of The Burrow. But when she stepped off the final stair and turned towards the table on which she had left her book, she found something rather unexpected.

Fred Weasley, in his work robes, down on one knee and waiting for her. He held a large bunch of flowers in his hands.

“Hermione, love, I’m so sorry,” he said, indicating that she should sit and then waiting for her to take a seat in the big armchair in front of him before he continued. “Last night, I thought you had accidentally been given a potion which might have made you act in an out-of-character way, but I know now that I was wrong. Very wrong.”

Hermione’s eyes grew larger and she leaned forward. “Why would someone give me a potion without my consent? Have you and George been testing your products on unsuspecting people again?”

Fred groaned. “Oh, Hermione,” he said, but not without a small smile. “Why was that the bit you focused on, and not the ‘I’m sorry …. I was wrong’?”

Hermione did allow herself to soften a bit at that. She was trying to work on calming down some of her tendency towards strong reactions in the face of such issues, especially after her experience with her own parents. “OK, we’ll pretend I didn’t hear that bit. I’m listening,” she said, a bit more softly.

“Thank you, love. As I said, I’m sorry. I honestly thought you were joking when you asked me on a date, and I would have never have reacted that way if I had thought you were serious.” Without taking his eyes off Hermione, he enlarged a glass that had been left on the coffee table, filled it with water and placed the flowers in it.

“You wouldn’t?” Hermione asked, carefully watching his every move.

Fred shook his head. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’d have said yes, please, that would be lovely, Hermione. I’d love to go on a date with you; where shall I meet you?”

He waited a minute while that sank in, and then continued before Hermione could form her next sentence.

“You see, here’s the thing… We both know I’m an idiot,” Fred said. “But I think maybe I’m meant to be your idiot…” He gave Hermione another moment to take that in before he continued, watching her face soften more as she looked into his dark eyes. “Is there any way you’d consider giving me another chance?”

“It’s a possibility. What do you have in mind?”

Fred grinned at that. In that moment, he knew that this was going to be his life, and that it was a life he would relish. Hermione wouldn’t let him off lightly when he cocked up, but their relationship would be real, and full of love, passion and banter. And, yes, tellings off on his part, but he’d probably deserve every one of them, and he would thoroughly enjoy making it up to her later.

“Well,” he began, producing a large box of her favourite chocolates from his robes pocket. “An apology gift, to go with the flowers, to start with.” He gave her the box and then took her hands in his own. “When you’re ready, I’d really like to kiss you, with your express permission and enthusiastic consent, of course, and then I’m hoping that we could go on a date right away, if you’re up for that? Because with tonight being Christmas Eve film night, we’ll both need to be here, and I’d like to watch the film in that armchair with you, and to tell everyone that we’re together.”

“What kind of date?”

“Well, it’s short notice,” he said, “and I am a bit committed in the shop today. But I thought maybe a half hour walk through Hogsmeade, during which I’ll buy you some mulled wine and roasted chestnuts. Customers have been telling us all morning that it’s snowing up there, and it’s very pretty. We can sit on a bench and watch the world go by, and then I’ll take you back to Diagon Alley to eat at our Christmas lunch staff buffet at the shop before I go back to work.”

Hermione smiled. “Hogsmeade sounds nice. Won’t it be nuts at the shop though?”

“Probably,” he confirmed. “But you don’t have to stay long. Just sample my crazy world by my side for a few minutes. I promise I won’t let go of your hand. Then you can come home and drink tea in peace with my mum all afternoon til I come back and make my lap available for you for the evening. Does that sound good?”

“It sounds great,” Hermione said, and then she leaned forward. “If I like your world, I may not leave…”

Fred kissed her lips softly and the drew away for a moment. “Then I’ll make sure you love it…” Caressing her face with his hand, he cupped Hermione’s cheek and drew her to him. She sighed as he tipped his head a bit and kissed her more thoroughly and her body confirmed to her that, yes, this was her wizard. The one she was going to keep. And it was pretty clear from the look in Fred’s eyes that he felt the same way.


	6. Happy Endings

Hermione was a bit surprised to see Fred home again at five. 

They had shared a wonderful first date in Hogsmeade and at the shop and she had only been back home for a couple of hours. The pair hadn’t stopped holding hands and smiling at each other from the moment they stepped out of The Burrow to walk to the spot in the garden from which they could apparate to Scotland. Hermione had so enjoyed the chestnuts and the feeling of warmth that she got while drinking mulled wine in Fred’s arms while looking at the snow-capped castle where they had spent their schooldays. Romantic didn’t even begin to describe it.

Then they had gone to the shop, where Fred kept hold of Hermione’s hand, as promised, as he led her around the lunch table. She was charmed to see how well they took care of their staff; treating them to stacks of fresh breads stuffed with meat, cheese and salad and a selection of festive snacks and treats. A couple of the shop assistants were relaxing in armchairs with their feet up, taking a break where they could, and Fred led Hermione to a low sofa where they could share their food. 

Afterwards, he gave her a quick tour of the shop, taking note of where her gaze fell so that he could make sure her stocking contained a few more gifts. Realising what he was doing, Hermione bade him farewell at about two thirty, wanting to grab a few more last-minute presents of her own.

She had relished a couple of hours of reading time in her favourite armchair, interspersed with a bit more gift wrapping, and hadn’t expected to see Fred until at least six.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when he arrived, alone and with a bag of newly wrapped gifts.

“Are you bored with me already?” he joked, trying to look sad.

“Not in the slightest,” she replied, kissing his lips and feeling a strange kind of happiness at the realisation that Fred seemed to delight in what was happening between them just as much as she did.

“Well, I was sent home early…” Fred began, not knowing quite how to end that sentence.

Hermione frowned, just slightly, when he didn’t continue. “There’s going to be one rule in our relationship, Fred,” she said. “We’ll tell each other everything, or you can forget it right now. I’ve seen what happens when people only share part truths, and I’m having none of it.”

“Alright, then. Everything,” he whispered, fingers tangling in Hermione’s hair before giving her another kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. “Everything.”

“Spill, then,” she said, when they came up for air. Her face was flushed and her eyes blown. Fred stroked her cheek; he loved this look on her and couldn’t wait to see how much more flustered he could get her when they were naked.

“Georgie sent me,” he said again, and then his face split into a grin as he decided to throw caution to the wind and do exactly what she had asked for: tell her everything. “He thinks you’re the one for me, and he’s relying on us to make double babies so that he can share…”

Hermione laughed. “Is he now?”

Fred nodded. “It’s quite cool, really. We can use it to our advantage,” he suggested with a wink. “We can live next door to him and Oliver and we’ll always have a babysitter on hand so I can take you on hot dates.”

Hermione tipped her head to one side. “You’ve got this all planned out…” She was pleasantly surprised.

“I’m a Weasley,” he said. “We love kids. So, are you up for making us a family?”

“Right now?” she teased him, pretending to look at a watch that she didn’t wear. “I’m not sure we’ve got time before everyone arrives?” Inside, her ovaries were cheering, and she felt a new and wonderful kind of warmth upon hearing Fred’s words. They were, she knew, his unique way of telling her that he was committed to her already. And, after being friends for more than half their lives, she didn’t need twenty-five dates to know she felt the same.

“Just in theory,” he said. “Just so I know what to tell Georgie when he asks next…”

“Tell him I think three or four children is a lovely number, and he can have a half-share in all of them. But broomstick time to be negotiated. I'm not sure yet what I think about him and Oliver flying my babies around the garden while they're still in nappies.”

“I think I love you already,” Fred said, smiling at the thought of Hermione and Oliver going toe to toe over quidditch. He was certain that, between the three former Gryffindor players, they could persuade Hermione that their kids would be naturals, and began to prepare arguments in his head about sticking spells. In the meantime, Fred leaned in and they kissed again.

Having bagged the best armchair for their chatting and snogging, Fred and Hermione refused to relinquish it for the film evening. Fred persuaded Crookshanks to guard it for them while they all ate and, much to Hermione’s surprise, her cat allowed Fred to lift him up and onto his knee when they returned, with the rest of the Weasleys, to watch their film. It was a child safe one, for Elliot, full of elves and Christmas music, and Arthur insisted that Molly put her feet up on a sofa with her grandchildren while he served the eggnog and mince pies. Ginny jumped up, offering to help with the eggnog, which quite surprised Harry. But the youngest Weasley explained that she was feeling full of beans and excited about Christmas.

The evening was cosy and warm, and the perfect prelude to Christmas Day. But it passed quickly. Once the three eldest Weasleys and their families had said goodnight and flooed to their own homes with promises to be back for breakfast by eight in the morning, Molly turned to the others.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” she said. “Do stay the night, Oliver,” Molly added, seeing that the quidditch player was still on the sofa, though Ron had taken Lavender home a few minutes before. “You can sleep in with George. Fred won’t be needing his bed tonight or tomorrow night, I’m sure.”

When Oliver turned to smile at George, resolving that tonight would be the night in which he would ensure that the flirting turned to some sort of action, the Scot chuckled to see the surprised looks on both twins’ faces.

“What’s that, Molly?” Arthur seemed unable to believe his ears either.

“Well,” Molly continued, starting to get up from the sofa, “I’m sure Fred will be trying to sneak into Hermione’s room later. And either she will let him, in which case he’ll sleep in her bed, or she’ll hex him to kingdom come and he’ll be sleeping at St Mungo’s. Either way, he’ll not be in his own room. So Oliver should have his bed and maybe he and George will finally succumb to a bit of Christmas magic…”

Harry looked around, enjoying the different reactions on the Weasleys’ faces. 

Oliver and George both laughed and then looked at each other. Something clearly shifted for both of them in that moment, and Fred took the opportunity to flick a bit of mistletoe their way with his wand. Seeing it appear above them, Oliver leaned in, pressing a gentle but firm kiss to George’s lips. George responded by winding his arm around Oliver, his hand cupping the older wizard’s hip. They shared a smile, and that was all that they needed. Oliver reached for George's hand, entwining their fingers together, and the two kissed again, more deeply this time.

Fred and Hermione turned to each other and kissed too; a longer kiss that looked very much like an invitation on Hermione’s part and an acceptance on Fred’s. 

Molly and Arthur looked indulgently at both couples as they rose and said goodnight. When the kissing pairs finally broke apart, Ginny grinned, opening her hand to surreptitiously show Fred, Hermione, George and Oliver a vial of orange potion which she had been keeping in her pocket. George’s eyes widened slightly as he checked his own pocket and found it to be empty. Ginny cast her eyes, very quickly, in the direction of her retreating mother, whose eggnog had clearly been dosed with a bit of the potion and then the youngest Weasley winked.

It was like the twins themselves said: all was fair in love and Weasley betting.


End file.
